


Tainted By Your Touch

by liviy695



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2018-09-18 16:10:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9392804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liviy695/pseuds/liviy695
Summary: Just as Sherlock realises how much he cares for Molly as a friend, she ups and disappears without so much as a goodbye and Sherlock begins to think that he didn't know her at all. However, when a chance meeting at the mostly unlikeliest of places reveals the reason Molly left, Sherlock begins to see Molly as more than just his friend in the morgue. Set after Season 1 then AU.





	1. Chapter 1

“Here you go, black, two sugars. Just how you like it.” Molly said depositing Sherlock’s coffee on the bench beside him. It had been two months since that night at the swimming pool, where Sherlock came face to face with his biggest fan, James Moriarty. Since then, none of the other cases that Sherlock had come across had given him the same high like the game did. So Sherlock started throwing himself into his experiments, desperately trying to recapture the rush of adrenaline that had been eluding him. He had yet to find anything that even compared. Sometime later, John walked into the lab after his shift had finished at the hospital and began to ask Sherlock about the experiment he was currently engaged in. As Sherlock explained that he was comparing blood seepage in different kinds of soils, he reached for his coffee and took a sip, immediately spitting it out onto John’s crisp white shirt.

“Molly, my coffee is cold.” Sherlock wined. 

“Jesus Christ Sherlock! You couldn’t have just swallowed it?” John said, rushing to the sink and grabbing a damp cloth.

“Remember when I said I was doing a tea and coffee run and if you wanted anything?” Molly said, not looking up from her microscope.

“Yes.” Sherlock replied.

“That was three hours ago.” 

“Oh.” Sherlock said, looking down at the full mug with distaste before setting it back down.

“Are you going to be much longer?” Molly asked as she scribbled her results down on a notepad and then began packing away her equipment. “I’m leaving early today and need to lock up the lab when I do.” Molly said walking over to Sherlock to pick up his discarded coffee.

“Why are you leaving early?” Sherlock asked Molly’s back as she stood at the sink, washing their cups.

“Sherlock, that’s none of your business.” John said, sending an apologetic smile to Molly.

“It’s nothing.” Molly smiled at John. “Just the dentist.” Molly turned back to Sherlock and began to clean up his discarded samples, while Sherlock stared at her intently.

“Are you wearing a push up bra?” Sherlock asked, tilting his head to the side as he looked at her bent over the bench.

“Sherlock!” John exclaimed. “You can’t ask that?”

“But John, her breasts are obviously bigger. I’m just curious as to why?” Sherlock reasoned.

“But it is none of your business.” John said, glancing a look at Molly whose face had gone beet red.

“Um…no…I-“ Molly said as she stood up but was then interrupted by Sherlock.

“Oh I see you’ve put on weight Molly, your breasts are just padding out with extra fat tissue.” Sherlock said in a eureka voice. Meanwhile John and Molly were stunned into silence. 

“Lock up when you leave.” Molly eventually said as she stormed out the lab. Sherlock watched her leave with a confused look on her face and turned to John for clarification.

“You are an absolute arse.” Was all John said before he to left Sherlock in the lab with his experiment. Sherlock went over the conversation in his head, but could not understand why they were both upset and so thought it best to delete the entire thing and finish up his experiment.

xXx

A months later, Sherlock’s high from his case with the Woman had already faded and his continuous battle with boredom had led him to St. Bart’s in hopes of procuring some kind of body part to experiment with. Sherlock rushed into the morgue and scanned it for Molly, who was nowhere to be found. In her place, elbows deep into a cadaver was a man that Sherlock didn’t recognise.

“Can I help you?” The man asked and Sherlock immediately began deducing everything about him. 27, recently back from holiday, married but cheating, expecting a child, rebelling against future fatherhood. None of which told him why he was there and where Molly was. 

“Where’s Molly?” Sherlock asked.

“Who?” The man asked, removing his hands from the cadaver’s chest cavity and moving round the table to stand in front of Sherlock.

“Molly, Molly Hooper, she’s the head pathologist here.” Sherlock said through gritted teeth, this man’s insistent stupidity was beginning to annoy him.

“Oh, you must mean the person I replaced.” The man said.

“What?” Sherlock said, completely taken aback.

“Well I’m the new head pathologist here. I’m sorry, I don’t know where she moved to, never actually met her myself.”

“Wait, she moved? Moved where?” Sherlock asked, thoroughly confused by the situation. Molly loved her job, why would she have left?

“Dunno, all I know is she doesn’t work in this department anymore. Might have moved to a different department or hospital. Your best bet is to ask someone higher up than me.”

“How long has she been gone?”

“I don’t know. Well I started here two weeks ago, so around then I would guess, but like I said I don’t know. So if that’s it, do you mind if I get back to work?” The man said, holding up his blood covered gloved hands.” Sherlock didn’t reply and stormed out the morgue, intent on getting to the bottom of this.

xXx

“She quit?!” Sherlock shouted, slamming his fists down on Mike Stamford’s desk.

“Well resigned, yes.” Mike replied, startled by Sherlock’s reaction.

“When?” Sherlock demanded.

“Well she handed in her letter of resignation to me, ooh, just under three months ago. But her final day was on the…” Mike flipped a few pages on his day planner, “Just over two weeks ago, the 3rd.” Sherlock couldn’t believe what he was hearing, Molly had really left. More than that, the last time he saw her, she had already been planning on leaving and hadn’t mentioned anything to him. More importantly, he hadn’t noticed that anything was amiss. Sherlock desperately tried to recall everything Molly had done the last time he had seen her, but the only things he could recall were his blasted soil samples.

“Did she say why?” Sherlock eventually asked, after a few minutes of silence.

“Just that something personal had come up and she had to leave.”

“Leave Bart’s or leave…”

“Leave London I think, don’t know for sure but the way she was acting before she left made me think that she was moving away.” Mike paused, about to ask something but unsure if he should, in the end curiosity got the better of him. “Did she…did she really not tell you? I thought the two of you were… well, friends.” Sherlock didn’t answer and swept out the office, his coat billowing out behind him.

xXx

In the two years that Sherlock had known Molly, he had always known where she lived but had never actually visited her flat. She lived on the ground floor flat of an end Georgian Terrace house in Kensington. Her family being upper middle class, the large inheritance from her grandfather and later her father and her high salary job meant that she could afford the pricy neighbourhood. Sherlock knocked on the door, listening intently to voices on the other side of the door, two of them, one male and one female. The door then opened and Sherlock was greeted by a short, brunette woman wearing a flowing skirt, white lace shirt and a green cardigan .

“Yes?” The woman said when Sherlock just looked at her in silence. 

“My friend used to live here. Sorry I wasn’t aware she’d moved.” Sherlock said, slightly in a daze.

“Oh honey, you must have just missed her. We only moved in four days ago. One second, David what was the name of the woman who used to live here, the one that showed us round.”

“Ermm Margret? Mary? Something like that.” A man said appearing from behind the door and standing behind the tall woman.

“You spoke to her?” Sherlock asked. “Did she say where she was going?” 

“I don’t think so.” The woman replied with a pitying look on her face. “I think she said she was tired of the city but that was it.” 

“Who did you say you were?” The man questioned suspiciously. 

“A…friend.” Sherlock said.

“A friend she didn’t tell was moving, can’t have been that close.” The man said pulling his girlfriend away from the door.

“No, I’m beginning to realise that.” Sherlock said, his eyes going out of focus for a moment as he tried to recall every moment he had with Molly. Regretfully, there weren’t that many as Sherlock realised he had deleted a lot of them and the ones he kept, she was mainly in the background, he couldn’t even recall when he first met her. “Sorry.” Sherlock said, shaking himself from his mind palace. “Thanks for your help, good day.” Sherlock turned around and went to hail a taxi back to Baker street.

xXx

“That was quick.” John remarked from his arm chair as Sherlock entered the room and sat on the sofa. Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his fingers pressed together in front of his mouth, Sherlock stared pensively into the flickering flames of the fireplace. John realised he wasn’t going to get an answer and returned to editing his latest blog post, A Scandal in Belgravia, he had called it. John had to admit that Sherlock’s interactions with the women had both intrigued and scared him. Though he hated himself for thinking it, it was probably for the best that she was dead, who knows what other dire situations she could have lead Sherlock in to if she lived.

“Molly’s gone.” Sherlock said, some hours later to an empty room as John was currently in the kitchen making tea.

“What’s that?” John asked, his head poking back into the living room.

“Molly. She’s left Bart’s.”

“Oh, did she get a new job somewhere else?”

“I don’t know.”

“Has she moved away then?”

“Yes.”

“Where did she move?”

“I don’t know.” During the course of this conversation, John had resumed making tea and so did not see the growing agitation on Sherlock’s features.

“Why did she leave?” John asked, walking back into the living room and gently blowing on his tea.

“I don’t know!” Sherlock shouted jumping to his feet, causing John to recoil slightly and spill some of his hot tea onto his jumper. The two stared at each other in silence for a moment before Sherlock cleared his throat and fiddled with his collar. “Apologies John, it has been a very frustrating day.” Sherlock said before sitting back down.

“No harm done.” John said quickly setting his tea on the side table and taking a seat. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“Nothing to tell, I arrived at Bart’s to find Molly absent and a man claiming that he was her replacement. Mike Stamford confirmed that Molly had resigned for ‘personal reasons’ that she had not disclosed to him. And when I went to her flat, another couple were living there.” Sherlock summarised.

“Blimey.” John eventually replied. “And you had no inkling that she was leaving, didn’t you deduce anything.”

“If you recall, I have been occupied with a high profile case recently. Even I can’t deduce something if I’m not there to see it.” Sherlock replied.

“Fair enough. That is weird though, to just up and leave. I would have thought she’d at least let you know. I mean you’ve known each other a long time, worked together a lot. Do you think she’s ok?” Whilst John had only known Molly for a few months, he had immediately liked her, after all she was a very likeable person. Not at all the type you’d think would have a job working with dead people. And while it was sometimes painful to watch her obvious crush on Sherlock, she always made time to chat with him when he visited her at Bart’s with Sherlock.

“Do you remember the last time we were at Bart’s?” Sherlock asked, ignoring John’s question.

“Vaguely.” John replied. “You spat coffee over me and called Molly fat.”

“I didn’t call her fat! I merely pointed out that she had gained weight, I didn’t say it was a bad thing.” Sherlock pouted.

“For most women, putting on weight is a bad thing.” John said.

“Irrelevant!” Sherlock announced. “Do you remember anything odd about her behaviour that day? According to Mike, she had already handed in her letter of resignation when we last saw her.” John’s forehead furrowed for a moment as he tried to think back.

“Nope, sorry mate, she seemed normal to me. Up until you called her fat and she stormed off.”

“I did not call her fat!” Sherlock shouted, standing up and stomping into the kitchen to find something to fiddle with.

“What about you? You spent pretty much the entire day with her in the lab, didn’t you notice anything?” John inquired, leaning against the door frame.

“It’s not like we sat around talking about our feelings. She did her work, I did mine. I asked her opinion of some results, she offered to get coffee, that was pretty much the extent of our interactions that day.” Sherlock huffed, clearly annoyed with himself.

“If it bothers you so much, why don’t you just find her? You can find people. Or get Mycroft or Lestrade to track her down, she’s not exactly a criminal master mind, she’ll pop up somewhere.”

“Why should I?” Sherlock countered, spinning around to face John. “She clearly didn’t deem me important enough to inform me of her departure and doesn’t want anyone, especially me it seems, to know where she’s gone.”

“Sherlock, that’s a bit harsh. You know she cares for you, you’re friends.” John said.

“Molly apparently doesn’t think so. And as she is not a friend or a client or someone a client wishes me to locate, I am under no obligation nor inclination to find her.” Sherlock said sweeping past John to pick up his violin.

“But what is she’s in some kind of trouble?” John asked.

“Then she at least, knows where to find me.” Sherlock huffed before turning to the window and the beginnings notes of Paganini Caprice No. 1 drowned out anything else John could say.

xXx

Molly stood at the end of the garden and watched the sun set over the rolling hills that stretched out for miles in front of her. The sky was bathed in pink and orange and a soft breeze carried the noise of baaing sheep from a couple fields over.

“Molly dear, come inside and lay the table, dinner will be ready in a moment.” An elderly woman called out from the back door of the cottage behind Molly.

“Coming Nana.” Molly called back, breathing in one more breath of fresh air before walking back into the cottage. Molly saw her grandmother pull something out the aga and quickly rushed to lay out mats and cutlery on the kitchen table. The cottage had a more formal dining room, but for just the two of them, Molly preferred to eat in the kitchen. When Molly sat down, her grandmother set a heaping plate of lasagne down in front of her.

“Nana, you know I won’t eat all this.” Molly said, pouring both her and her grandmother some water.

“Nonsense, you need to get used to bigger portions if you’re going to be staying. I won’t have any guests of mine going hungry. Now eat up.” Molly’s grandmother said in a no-nonsense tone.

“Thank you again for letting me stay. I really didn’t want to ask mum to give up her traveling for me.” Molly said, toying with her food until she received a soft slap on her hand for doing so and a pointed look from her grandmother.

“You know as well as I that your mother would have come home in a heartbeat with absolutely no regrets if she needed to, after all, she can write anywhere, she just likes being abroad.” Molly’s grandmother said in disapproving tone. Molly’s mother, Diana Hooper, was a reasonably successful novelist. Before her husband, David Hooper, passed away she only wrote as a hobby. But after giving up work her as a psychiatrist to take care of her husband when he was diagnosed with cancer, she decided not to go back and devoted herself entirely to her hobby. Now she’s spends most of her time abroad searching for inspiration. Molly and her mother were still very close, despite the often significant distance between them, skyping at least once a week and sending each other odd texts and emails when they saw something they thought the other might enjoy. “But as I have plenty of room here and, if I do say so myself, am quite fit and able for my age, there’s no point in calling your mother home yet. Now eat up, your foods getting cold.” Molly and her grandmother passed the rest of the meal talking about their new living arrangement and Molly surprised herself by eating over half of the giant meal she had received. Her grandmother was less impressed and wrapped up the remainder increase Molly felt like a snack later. 

“Ooh I just remembered I wanted to get a box of your father’s old things out the loft for you, I best do that now.”

“No Nana, I’ll do it.” Molly said, putting the last plate in the dishwasher and drying her hands.

“You’ll do no such thing, you are a guest and you need to be taking care of yourself.” 

“And what kind of guest, let alone granddaughter, would I be if I let my 73 year old grandmother go rummaging round in the loft?” Molly countered, mirroring her grandmothers determined expression, she did after all learn it from her. However, before the two of them got lost in a battle of wills that would probably last all evening, there was a knock at the door.

“Oh, that’ll be Violet.” Molly’s grandmother said, turning away from Molly.

“Violet?” Molly queried following her grandmother. 

“Yes, my next-door neighbour. Her and her husband moved in a few years ago after they both retired. Lovely people, Violet comes round every Sunday evening to watch our detective show together.” When Molly’s grandmother said next-door neighbour she was not being literal as her grandmother’s cottage was a single building surrounded by fields. As far as Molly knew, her grandmother’s closet neighbour lived three miles away.

“Violet.” Molly’s grandmother greeted as she opened the door.

“Debbie, lovely to see you, as always.” Violet said as she hugged Molly’s grandmother and kissed both her cheeks, before making her way inside and immediately spotting Molly.

“Oh Debbie, you should have told me you had company, I wouldn’t have come if I’d known.”

“Nonsense. This is my granddaughter Molly. Molly this is Violet.”

“Pleasure to meet you Mrs?” Molly asked.

“Oh please call me Violet, I do detest formalities.” Violet said hugging Molly and kissing her cheeks. Molly immediately liked Violet, she had an air about her that made likeable, but Molly couldn’t put her finger on what it was.

“Make your way into the Living room, I’ll be right there with the drinks.” Molly’s grandmother said before heading back to the kitchen. Molly and Violet headed into the living room and Molly sat in the arm chair, tucking her feet under her while Violet took her seat on the sofa. 

“Debbie mentioned when I saw her last week that you moved here from London. Personally, I don’t blame you, never liked living in the city, too many people, too much dirt. How anyone can stomach it is beyond me?” Violet said and Molly laughed at her obvious displeasure of city living.

“I agree, cities can be busy, London even more so. But I am going to miss it, I had this lovely flat just a stone’s throw of Kensington Gardens, a great job, although most people couldn’t understand what I loved about it, and friends, great friends.” Molly said, trailing off.

“But they can come and visit you, can’t they?” Violet said.

“Perhaps.” Molly said before shaking herself out of her daze. Molly put a smile on her face and asked, “So what are we watching?”

“Death in Paradise my dear, I absolutely adore it but I can’t watch it at home as my darling Thomas always figures out who the murderer is before me and spoils it. He’s driven me to imposing on your dear grandmother every Sunday evening” Violet said.

“It is no imposition at all Violet.” Molly’s grandmother said carrying in a tray of drinks and setting it down on the coffee table. She passed a sizable glass of white wine to Violet and another one for herself and then passed Molly a glass of orange juice.

“But honestly, my Thomas.” Violet said shaking her head in loving frustration. “It wouldn’t be so bad if he could keep it to himself, but no, the moment the murderer appears on the screen he simply has to announce that ‘it was them who done it.’” Violet said in what Molly assumed was an impression of her husband’s voice. “And that’s not even the half of it. God forbid that if my sons should visit, they can read the episode synopsis and announce who the murderer was. It’s enough to drive a woman mad.” Violet finished in an exasperated voice. Molly just laughed before her grandmother shushed her when the programme started. 

As Molly watched the detective run around the beautiful Caribbean island, she tried not to think of another detective she knew. Molly felt so guilty for not saying goodbye to Sherlock and John but she just couldn’t stand to face them. Suddenly Molly felt herself trembling and on the verge of tears, so she excused herself from Violet and her grandmother, feigning tiredness and made her way to her room. When Molly’s grandfather began having trouble getting up and down the steep, narrow cottage staircase, her grandmother decided to extend part of the downstairs and create a master suite for the two of them. Even after her grandfather passed, her grandmother decided to stay in the downstairs bedroom, which left Molly with the old master bedroom as well as the other two bedrooms on the first floor. One of which Molly was going to turn into an office so she could write some academic papers while she was currently out of work. The other would remain empty for the moment. In her room, Molly opened the French doors onto a small balcony, just big enough for two people to stand on, and breathed in the crisp night air. For the millionth time, Molly questioned if she had made the right choice moving away and not telling Sherlock. He could have helped her. Unlikely Molly thought to herself. It wasn’t like she was important enough to need protection. And she could only imagine what he would think of her if he found out.

“What do you think?” Molly said looking down, her hands drifting to press against her slightly round belly. “What am I asking you for, your brain’s the size a peanut.” Molly replied to herself, smiling as she rubbed her belly one last time before closing the doors.


	2. Chapter 2

“Fuck off!” Molly shouted bursting through the doors of her bedroom’s balcony, the resulting bang as the doors whacked against the metal railings and the loudness of Molly’s shout, caused the flock of birds that had been happily singing away in the tree next to Molly’s bedroom window to take flight and disappear into the sky. For a second Molly basked in blissful silence.

“Molly Hooper!” Molly’s grandmother chastised from where she was knelt at a flower bed in the back garden below the balcony. “Language.” Molly’s grandmother stood up, dusting off her knees and looked up at Molly. “Honestly dear, you are not too old to have your mouth washed out with soap.”

“Sorry nana.” Molly shouted down to her grandmother. “It’s just those damn birds have woken me up every morning for the past two weeks.”

“No excuse for bad language. Now come downstairs, I’ll make you some breakfast.” Molly’s grandmother said before disappearing through the back door into the kitchen. Molly groaned and rested her head against the bar of her balcony, knowing that she was going to get a lecture from her grandmother the moment she set foot in the kitchen. 

“Ugh.” Molly said pushing herself off the balcony railing and waddling back into her room. Although Molly had tried her best to deny it, now that she was five months pregnant, she had a definite waddle. Not bothering to get changed out of her pyjamas, Molly left her room to head to the stairs, passing one of the spare rooms on the way. And like every morning Molly paused at the doorway of the spare room and gazed in. Molly had repainted the walls a buttery yellow, that made them glow in the morning sunlight. A crib dominated the centre of the room, currently bare of any sheets but absolutely stuffed with toys that had yet to be properly stored away in Molly’s grandfathers antique toy box. A changing table lay against one of the walls, still in its packaging next to an old rocking chair. Every time Molly looked into to the nursery it made everything feel like it was incredibly imminent yet also so far away. Molly made a mental note of things that she needed to do, build the changing table, buy a baby harness, buy a car seat, etc. The mental list seemed to get longer and longer the closer Molly got to her due date. Taking one last look around the room Molly continued on her journey to the kitchen. 

“Now Molly, I don’t think I need to tell that when the baby is born you can’t be using language like that. Babies understand more than you think a lot earlier than you think.” Molly’s grandmother said the moment Molly set foot in the kitchen. 

“I know nana.” Molly said sitting down at the table. “I’ve not been sleeping well these past few nights, this one in here likes to have a little dance party when I’m trying to sleep.” Molly said rubbing her now still belly affectionately.

“Babies run on their own time schedule Molly dear, something I’m afraid you are going to have get used to from now on.” Molly’s grandmother said placing a stack of crepes on the table before placing a bowl of berries, another of chopped bananas, a jar of Nutella and a bottle of maple syrup. 

“So…” Molly said casually folding a crepe and smothering it in Nutella and dropping slices of banana on top. “How attached are you to that tree? Because I was thinking, if we chopped it down-“

“We are not chopping the tree down.” Molly’s grandmother said as she squeezed some lemon juice over the sugar on her crepe.

“But I would sleep so much better without those dam-“ A pointed look from her grandmother. “Those charming birds.” 

“No. Little Ross will love having a tree he can climb or swing on when he is older.”

“I am not calling him Ross. We don’t even know if it is a he, it could be a girl.” 

“It’s a boy, I can tell, grandmother’s intuition. Plus, your carrying low, definitely a boy.”

“Nana, I’m a doctor and I can tell you that how you carry predicting sex is just an old wife’s tale.”

“We will see.” Molly’s grandmother said in a knowing voice. “Speaking of names, it’s traditional to name a boy after his father.” An awkward silence descended over the kitchen. 

“Nana, I told you, he is not in the picture.” Molly said, trying to stay calm and casual.

“No, you told me that he doesn’t know about the picture. Maybe if you got in contact with him-“

“Nana, no.”

“But maybe he’d like to know. Maybe the two of you could work something out.”

“There is nothing to work out nana.”

“But Molly, he-“ 

“I said no! Now drop it!” Molly said pushing herself away from the table and waddling out the back door into the garden. Molly walked over to the tree that just a few minutes ago she couldn’t stand the sight of and sat down on the bench that circled the trunk. Not a day goes by that Molly didn’t think of Jim, the way he used her to get close to Sherlock, the way he had praised and fawned over her, the way he had touched her. Molly shivered at the memory, the shame she felt at falling for his ridiculous act weighed heavily on her mind. The knowledge that he was still out there was a constant fear she had. The possibility that he would want her baby, take it away from her, the thought alone nearly broke Molly’s heart. This was the main reason that Molly had left London, if Jim ever did come back, it would be for Sherlock. So, the best way to keep Jim in the dark would be to stay away from Sherlock. That’s if he didn’t know already. Molly unconsciously scanned her surroundings, she could hear nothing accept more birds singing and her grandmother cleaning up their breakfast dishes. Molly knew that her grandmother was only trying to help, she couldn’t help it if she was a little… old fashioned. She just wanted Molly to have what she and her parents had, a loving husband to share the joys and hardships of parenting with. There was no way that Molly’s grandmother could ever know or understand the monster that was Jim Moriarty. 

“Molly dear.” Molly’s grandmother called from the back door.

“Over here nana.” Molly replied, quickly wiping away a few tears that had fell from her eyes, damn hormones. Molly’s grandmother walked around the jasmine bush that hid Molly from view and came to sit next to her.

“I’m sorry Molly, I shouldn’t have pushed. You are a clever girl and you know what is best for you and the baby. So if this man is someone that you can’t see a future with, then that is your decision and I will support you.” Molly’s grandmother said.

“Thank you, nana.” Molly replied turning to envelope her grandmother in a hug, more tears pouring from her eyes. Molly’s grandmother patted her on the back and pulled out a handkerchief and began wiping away Molly’s tears.

“Come now Molly, there is no need for tears.”

“I know, I seem to cry at anything at the moment.” Molly said pulling away and rubbing her eyes with the end of her pyjama sleeve. 

“Why don’t you get yourself dressed, I’ll finish putting away the dishes and then we can head over to Violet’s.”

“Violet’s? Why are we heading over there?”

“It’s Violet’s birthday dear, don’t tell you forgot. She invited us round to her house for a garden party weeks ago.”

“Oh yes of course.” A vague memory of Violet’s invitation rattled around Molly’s head. “I just didn’t realise it was today.”

“Well off you go, find a nice dress to put on.” Molly’s grandmother said, guiding Molly back into the kitchen towards the stairs. Molly hauled herself back to her room and opened her wardrobe. Molly’s collection for dresses was small before she got pregnant and now she had a grand total of two that she could fit into. An emerald green maxi dress, that Molly thought was probably slightly too formal for a garden party, and a knee length white dress with pale pink roses on it, which Molly thought was better for this occasion. Grabbing the dress’s hanger, Molly laid it down on the bed and found a pair of sandals that matched and proceeded to climb into the shower.

xXx

“This is ridiculous!” Sherlock said sulking in his seat in the back of the limo.

“Be that as it may, your presence has been…requested.” Mycroft replied not looking up from his phone.

“You’re going, why does she need to see me as well.” Sherlock said as he watched the sights of his beloved London fade as he gazed out the window.

“For some unfathomable reason, mummy enjoys seeing you. God knows why.” Mycroft muttered the last bit, even though he knew that Sherlock would hear him in the confined space of the limo.

“And this party, she knows how I detest parties. Celebrating a successful trip around the sun, honestly, what is the point.” Sherlock huffed.

“I am under the impression that most people put their own selfish wants to the side for people they are supposed to care about.” Mycroft replied, tucking his phone in to his jacket pocket. 

“Well if she cared about me why is she forcing me to do something I hate.”

“Because it is her birthday.”

“So she wants me to suffer for her birthday.”

“Essentially, yes.” Mycroft replied and couldn’t help the gleeful smile that spread across his face at his younger siblings suffering.

“I hate you all.” Sherlock huffed, wrapping himself in his coat, intent on ignoring Mycroft for the rest of the journey. Sometime later, the limo arrived at its destination. Sherlock could already hear the sounds of music, laughter and general merriment from inside the limo and groaned in frustration. 

“Here.” Mycroft said handing Sherlock a small boutique jewellery bag. 

“What is this?” 

“Well little brother, it is the generally accepted custom to bring a gift to someone’s birthday party.”

“Yes, I know that. Why are you giving it to me?” 

“Well I know that you are too selfish to have remembered that it was mummy’s birthday, let alone brought her a present. Hence the gift. Don’t worry, mine is better.” Mycroft said holding up another boutique jewellery bag and climbing out of the car. By the time Sherlock had climbed out the car, Mycroft was already opening the front door. Everyone was in the back garden, so no one had seen them arrive. Mycroft placed his gift bag on the entrance table while he took of his jacket to hang up. Sherlock took this opportunity to switch the two gift bags and march off to the sound of people intent of wishing his mother happy birthday, giving her the gift and then leaving. 

“Sherlock!” Sherlock’s mother shouted the moment she spotted him walk through the back door into the garden. Sherlock’s mother rushed over to him and embraced him in a tight hug, which Sherlock awkwardly returned. “And Mycroft.” Sherlock’s mother said releasing Sherlock to give a hug to her eldest.

“Happy birthday mummy.” Mycroft said giving her a brief kiss on the cheek, before straightening up.

“Happy birthday.” Sherlock said in a monotone voice presenting the gift bag to his mother, who clapped her hands excitedly before reaching into the bag and pulling out a small jewellery box. She opened it up and the smile on her face froze.

“Thank you Sherlock, they are…beautiful.” Sherlock’s mother said and you didn’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to deduce that she was lying through her teeth. Sherlock stepped next to her to examine the contents of the box. Inside were a pair of the tiniest diamond earring he had ever seen. The diamonds were so small that they barely stood out from the black velvet they were placed on. Sherlock shot a death glare to his brother who merely smirked in response before handing over his gift. Their mother pulled a significantly larger box out of Mycroft’s bag. “Oh Mycroft you shouldn’t have.” Inside this box was a diamond bracelet, each diamond at least one centimetre wide.

“Nothing but the best for you mummy.” Mycroft replied, shooting Sherlock a smug look.

“I couldn’t agree more.” Sherlock said, “which is why I got you this.” He pulled another larger jewellery box out of his coat pocket and handed it to his mother, shooting Mycroft a triumphant look. Mycroft just glared back.

“But you already got me the earrings.” Sherlock’s mother said.

“A joke gift mummy, something to make sure Mycroft’s gift didn’t look too cheap. Here is your real gift.” Sherlock said opening the case for his mother. Inside was a pink gold wide necklace filled with diamonds and other jewels. “Allow me.” Sherlock said taking the necklace out of the case and unclasping it. Sherlock’s mother spun around, allowing Sherlock to gently place the necklace around her neck before re-clasping it. 

“Oh Sherlock, it is beautiful.” Sherlock’s mother said. “I must show Debbie.” She gave Sherlock and Mycroft another hug each before going off in search of one of her friends. “Oh and don’t think about running off anytime soon. I’ve already told your father to send away your limo, it won’t be back for another two hours, so make yourself comfortable.” Sherlock’s mother said laughing before disappearing into the crowd. 

“You said you hadn’t got a gift.” Mycroft hissed to Sherlock.

“No, you said I hadn’t got a gift. I just didn’t correct you. And by the way, giving me the wrong bag, so predictable.”

“Stealing my bag, so predictable.” Mycroft replied. “Now, if you will excuse me, I am going to go and mingle.” 

“Before you go.” Sherlock said fishing around in his pocket again. “Your credit card. You might want to cut back on your cake expenses, you are going to get one hell of a credit card bill.” Sherlock laughed before walking back into the house to deposit his coat. Hanging his coat on one of the hooks in the entrance way. A coat a couple of hooks down from him caught his eye. It seemed very familiar to him, but he couldn’t place it. Shrugging it off as unimportant, Sherlock rolled up the sleeves of his purple dress shirt and readied himself to make boring small talk for the next hour and 58 minutes.

xXx

“So, you’re not married?” Another one of Violet’s friends asked Molly.

“Nope.” Molly replied, trying to maintain a calm façade when inside she was fuming. Already three complete strangers had come up to Molly to give their opinions about her situation and Molly feared she would not be able to control herself from speaking her mind.

“But you and your boyfriend plan to get married before the baby is born, surely?” The woman who introduced herself as Martha asked.

“Nope, I don’t have a boyfriend. Free and single me.” Molly looked down at the baby belly. “Well single at least.” 

“Oh. And the father? He’s…” Martha trailed off.

“Not around.”

“Oh. Well I am sure you will manage. Somehow.” Martha smiled tightly before walking away. Molly just sipped her lemonade and glared at the woman’s back. 

“Molly are you ok?” Molly’s grandmother said, suddenly appearing at her side.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You look a little flushed, maybe you should stand in the shade.” Molly’s grandmother said guiding Molly to the shaded area of the patio.

“Honestly nana, I’m fine.” Before Molly’s grandmother could say anything else, they were interrupted.

“Debbie! Molly! Look what one of my sons bought me, isn’t it gorgeous?” Violet said, using her hand to indicate to her new necklace. 

“Oh Violet dear, it is beautiful. Isn’t it Molly?” Debbie said gushing over it. Molly personally thought that it was a bit gaudy, but she could see how other people might like it.

“Beautiful.” Molly said.

“Thank you Molly. Now, tell me do you need me to get you anything? Another drink? Some more food? Would you like to sit down somewhere?” Violet asked. Molly smiled, whilst some of Violet’s friends judged Molly, Violet had been nothing but supportive. She never pried into Molly’s past and she often joined Molly and her grandmother whenever they went baby shopping. She had confided in Molly that she longed for some grandchildren, but feared her sons would forever remain bachelors. 

“I’m fine, thank you Violet. I might just pop to the loo though. It seems that the little one is pressing down on my bladder.” Molly said. 

“You don’t have to tell me.” Violet said. “My eldest practically sat on my bladder for nine months.” Violet laughed.

“Excuse me.” Molly said turning away from her grandmother and Violet towards the back door. However, just as she turned someone walked through the door depositing his phone into his trouser pocket as he did so. Molly and the person walking through the door, noticed each other at the exact same moment. The look of shock on both their faces would have been comical in any other situation. Molly watched as Sherlock’s eyes flashed to her stomach before meeting her own again. The tall lemonade glass slipped out her numb hands and rushed to meet its fate against the stone patio floor.


	3. Chapter 3

The sound of shattering glass filled the air as everyone ceased talking to turn their attention to the sound’s origin. Molly stood frozen starring at Sherlock’s guarded expression who had yet to say a word.

“Molly dear, are you alright? Is it the baby?” Molly’s grandmother asked rushing to Molly’s side, Violet a step behind her.

“Molly?” Violet said trying to get her attention. “Molly, are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” Molly said tearing her gaze away from Sherlock to the concerned ladies next to her. “The baby is fine, the glass just slipped form my hands. I’m sorry Violet.”

“No worries Molly, as long as you are alright.” Violet said placing a gentle hand on Molly’s arm. Seeing that the commotion was over, the other party guests turned their attentions back to their previous conversations. Violet looked around for her husband to clean up the shattered glass and noticed that her youngest had not moved and his gaze had yet to leave Molly, who was reassuring her grandmother that she was fine.

“Sherlock.” Violet said and if she hadn’t still had her hand on Molly’s arm she would have missed Molly stiffen at the sound of the name. “Don’t just stand there, fetch a broom before someone hurts themselves on this glass.” Sherlock gave no inclination that he had heard his mother’s request as his gaze remained rooted on Molly.

“Not to worry.” Thomas, Violet’s husband, said emerging from the house with a dust pan and brush. He immediately got to work on clearing up the mess.

“Oh Thomas, I am so sorry, please let me clean it up. I don’t want you to trouble yourself.” Molly said.

“Nonsense.” Thomas replied. “It is only a glass Molly.” Molly still felt incredibly guilty as she watched Thomas carefully pick up the big pieces of glass. With nothing to occupy Molly she became even more aware of Sherlock just standing there, not saying anything and blocking her only exit.

“Anyway,” Violet said. “let me introduce you both one for my sons. Molly, Debbie, this is my youngest, Sherlock. Sherlock, this is my dear friend Debbie and her granddaughter Mol-“

“Molly Hooper.” Sherlock interrupted. “Yes mother, we are…acquainted.”

“Oh.” Violet said a little surprised. “Well isn’t that unexpected, what a small world. Did you know each other when Molly lived in London, through work or…” Violet trailed off unsure of what she was about to suggest. Crazy thoughts running through her head about the nature of Sherlock’s and Molly’s relationship.

“Through work!” Molly was quick to clarify. “Remember I told you that I worked in a hospital, Sherlock would occasionally visit with the police when he was assisting them. We didn’t see each other that often. We weren’t close or anything.” 

“Something you made abundantly clear.” Sherlock stated. An awkward silence fell on the group.

“Excuse me.” Molly said quickly skirting around Sherlock and making a beeline for the bathroom, after all she wasn’t joking about the baby sitting on her bladder. What were the chances Molly thought to herself? Out of all the people, her grandmother had to go and make friends with Violet Holmes. Molly kicked herself for not realising sooner. Violet had told her that both her sons lived in London. She told Molly that her oldest was a civil servant AKA worked for the government and that her youngest didn’t really have a job but always ended up in trouble with the police. Molly could have kicked herself for not connecting the dots, but in fairness to herself, what were the chances. Molly finished washing her hands before popping her head out into the hallway, looking for that familiar mop of black hair. Seeing that the coast was clear, Molly rushed out the front door. However, she was soon halted in her tracks when she remembered where she was. Like her grandmother’s cottage, Violet’s was completely isolated. Open fields surrounded the house, not many places to hide, unless she fancied squatting behind a bush. Her eyes landed on her car, she could just leave, but she’d driven there with her grandmother and couldn’t leave her behind and going back in to fetch her increased her chances of running into Sherlock again. Also, she’d have to give a reason of why she wanted to leave. Molly pushed her hands into her hair and continued to desperately try and figure out an escape plan.

“Did you get lost?” A voice from behind her said. Molly spun round to she Sherlock causally learning in the doorway. 

“What?” Molly said, momentarily confused.

“Did you get lost on your way back from the bathroom? In case you didn’t notice, the party is back that way.” Sherlock pointing back into the house.

“I know.” Molly said.

“Oh.” Sherlock said in mock surprise. “So, you just came out her to what? Hide?”

“No!” Molly said quickly, however Sherlock just raised his eyebrows at her. “Maybe.” Molly lamented. “You just took me by surprise. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“Or ever again I imagine, given the way you disappeared without a trace and didn’t tell anyone of our mutual acquaintances where you were going.” Sherlock said. 

“It wasn’t like that.” Molly said. “You weren’t around.”

“And dropping me a text was so out of the realm of possibility?” Sherlock asked sarcastically.

“You know what Sherlock, if we are being honest, I didn’t think you’d notice, let alone care.” Molly spat out, tired of Sherlock childishly having a go at her. Sherlock was slightly taken aback by that. Sherlock knew that he wasn’t the easiest person to get along with but the two of them had been working amicably together for over two years, she was the only pathologist he worked with as she was by far the most competent. He valued her opinion on his experiments and was truly shocked that she thought he wouldn’t notice her absence.

“Of course I noticed, for starters your replacement was a man. Whilst by societies standards at least, your breasts are on the smaller side and you try to hide them in frankly some of the ugliest clothes I’ve ever seen, I did notice that you did have a pair and therefore deduced that you were most likely a woman and therefore did immediately notice this dissimilarity between you and your replacement.” Sherlock said. Molly wasn’t really sure what to reply to Sherlock’s statement, flattered that he had noticed her breasts? Angry because he had called them small? Happy that he had noticed her departure? However, Molly was saved from having to think of a reply when Sherlock continued speaking. “And now that fact that you are quite clearly pregnant solidly confirms that you are female.” Molly held her breath, Sherlock had finally acknowledged the elephant in the room. Molly had been waiting for his reaction ever since his eyes had first dropped to her rounded belly. “And speaking of which,” Sherlock continued. “Molly it’s the twenty first century. This self-imposed exile is a tad dramatic don’t you think. Believe it or not, women don’t have to hide away in shame when the result of unprotected sex becomes apparent anymore.” Sherlock said condescendingly. “I mean, quitting your job, moving away, I thought you had more dedication to your career than to let an, I’m assuming, unexpected pregnancy interfere.”   
Molly couldn’t believe that he was mocking her decision to leave, how he couldn’t understand why she thought it was necessarily. Molly was stunned into silence for a few moments. 

“I didn’t leave because I was ashamed. There was another reason I ran.” Molly eventually replied.

“Ran?” Sherlock asked. “Ran from what?”

“Not what, whom.”

“Who are you running from?” Sherlock asked, an unknown feeling spreading through his chest. For some reason the thought of Molly being so scared of someone that she was willing to give up her job and her life in London, stirred something in Sherlock. 

“You.” Molly whispered.

“What?” Sherlock said, taking a step towards her, so that he was now in arms reach of her. He couldn’t understand what he had done to scare Moly away from him.

“Have you not figured it out?!” Molly said, suddenly angry. She turned away from Sherlock and walked a few paces away from him before spinning around. “Whose baby do you think this is?” Molly said pointing at her belly.

“I don’t know. Should I? I don’t make a habit noting every person that you take to your bed.” Sherlock said, still confused.

“You are unbelievable! Greatest mind in the world and you can’t figure out this simple mystery.” Molly laughed sarcastically. “How far along am I?”

“Believe it or not, the pregnancy cycle is not something that has been necessary to know in my line of work. If I ever did know it, it has long been deleted and replaced with something far more important and useful.”

“Five months, Sherlock. I’m five months pregnant.” Molly said in an exasperated voice. However, Sherlock just looked blankly at her, not understanding the significance. “For God’s sake Sherlock. Can you not remember what happened five months ago?” Sherlock racked through his brain trying to figure out what event could have happened to him five months ago that somehow impacts Molly’s pregnancy. The only significant event he could remember from that time was the showdown in the swimming pool with…

“Moriarty.” Sherlock said.

“Bingo! Ladies and gentlemen, it was a struggle but he got there in the end.” Molly said sarcastically. “Yes Sherlock, Moriarty. Or as I knew him, Jim from IT.” 

“But…but…” Sherlock said, completely at a loss of what to say.

“But what Sherlock? Did you think he was so preoccupied with you that he wouldn’t have time for me? Who knows, maybe he did think of you while we were together?” Molly said.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes of course I am sure! You may not keep track of who I take to bed but I most certainly do.”

“How?” Sherlock said for lack of anything else to say.

“Oh Sherlock, I’m not having the birds and bees talk with you.”

“No of course I know how, I just meant how did this happen?”

“Sherlock, Jim and I were together for three weeks before I introduced him to you that morning. Did you think we’d been having chaperoned walks in the park? Not progressed beyond a kiss on the cheek? Grow up Sherlock, we had sex. Multiple times.”

“But that was all an act, to get close to me.” 

“Yes, it was.” Molly said bitterly. “A fact that you didn’t think was important enough to tell me. I had been dating a homicidal psychopath all because of you! And you didn’t even have the curtesy to let me know. If John hadn’t called me days after your showdown at the swimming pool to let me know why my boyfriend was suddenly missing and ask if I was ok, I would never have known.”

“I’m…Sorry Molly. It did not occur to me.”

“Of course, it didn’t.” Molly said, trying her best to hold back tears. “But do you understand now? Jim is still out there and if…No when he comes back, it won’t be for me, it’ll be for you.” Molly said coldly. Sherlock reluctantly nodded and felt even more guilty by the fact that he was looking forward to Moriarty’s return, the return of the game. “So, I think that you can agree that the best way for me to avoid any future contact with Jim Moriarty, is to stay as far as possible from you.” Molly spat out, taking another step away from Sherlock to emphaise her point.

“Moll-“ Sherlock began.

“Molly dear, are you out here?” A voice from the doorway called. Molly looked around Sherlock and saw her grandmother standing at the doorway, looking unsure if she had interrupted something important.

“Yes Nana, I’m here.” Molly said, walking around Sherlock, avoiding eye contact. “I’m not feeling very well; do you mind if we head home?”

“Of course dear, we’ll just say goodbye to Violet and Thomas and then head off.”

“Thank you, Nana.” Molly said, following her grandmother back into the house. They found Violet and Thomas in the kitchen preparing yet more food for their guests.

“Violet, Molly isn’t feeling very well so we are going to head home. We’ve had a wonderful time, thank you so much for inviting us.” Molly’s grandmother said.

“Of course, my dear. Thank you so much for coming.” Violet said, walking round the kitchen island to kiss Molly’s grandmother’s cheeks before moving on to Molly. “I hope you feel better soon.” Placing a kiss on both Molly’s cheeks. “And I’m sorry if my son said or did anything to upset you, he is blessed in many ways but social interactions are not one of them.”

“It’s fine, I just wasn’t expecting to see him is all.” Molly said feigning a smile, before saying goodbye to Thomas and heading back outside. Thankfully Sherlock had disappeared somewhere so Molly didn’t have to give him an awkward goodbye.

“Are you sure you are alright Molly?” Molly’s grandmother asked as they climbed into the car.

“Fine, I just wasn’t expecting to see someone back from my life in London.” Molly said.

“Is he…” Molly’s grandmother trailed off.

“Is he what?” Molly asked as she drove up the driveway, towards the road.

“The father?”

“God no!” Molly said, emergency braking at the shock of her grandmother’s question.

“Oh, I just thought that maybe…”

“No Nana, he was just an acquaintance. Someone I occasionally ran into at work.” Molly said putting the car back into first gear to continue along the long driveway.

“Ok then.” Molly’s grandmother said, slight disappointment in her voice, which Molly chose to ignore.

xXx

Sherlock found Mycroft hiding away in the library, a book open in front of him but he was currently typing away on his phone.

“Hello brother.” Mycroft said not looking up from the screen. “Did mummy send you to find me and drag me back to her little soiree?” However, before waiting for an answer Mycroft carried on. Depositing his phone in his jacket pocket and picking up the book from his lap. “I saw Dr. Hooper by the way, she was looking…well.” 

“Did you know?” Sherlock asked, fighting to maintain a calm voice when inside he was in a rage.

“Know what?” Mycroft said finally casting his gaze to his little brother and giving him in full attention.

“Did you know that Molly was pregnant with James Moriarty’s baby?” Mycroft was silent for a moment as he processed this information, showing Sherlock that he clearly didn’t, which somewhat calmed Sherlock, knowing that Mycroft hadn’t on purposely kept it from him.

“Well, that is an unexpected development.” Mycroft eventually replied.

“Why weren’t you aware?” Sherlock asked.

“Dr. Hooper wasn’t a person of interest, why would I know anything about her life. I was made aware when she left Bart’s as I had to make arrangements with her replacement regarding your access to the hospital, but I didn’t bother to dig into why she left.”

“Wait, you made arrangements? Did you make these same arrangements with Molly when she worked at Bart’s?” Sherlock asked. 

“Of course. You didn’t think that just because you threw Dr. Hooper a smile she allowed you access to cadavers or because you complimented her hair that she allowed you to experiment on body parts.” Mycroft said in a condescending tone. Sherlock, for once, didn’t rise to the bait to get into another pointless argument with Mycroft.

“But she had a relationship with Moriarty? Doesn’t that make her a person of interest.”

“Oh please, you, I and even Dr Hooper know that their relationship was all an act on his part, a way for him to observe you without you realising. To toy with you without you even knowing. And yes, when I was made aware that she was in a relationship with Moriarty, her background was extensively checked to ensure that she wasn’t in league with him or spying on you for him. When it became apparent that she was nothing but an unknowing pawn, she ceased to be of interest.” Mycroft concluded. Sherlock thought on what Mycroft had said and it all made perfect logical sense, however it didn’t make him feel better.

“Do you think that he knows?” Sherlock asked.

“Difficult to say, he certainly has the resources to find out or monitor her. But I doubt it.” Mycroft says. “I doubt that he really has any more interest in her now that he can’t use her to get to you.” Sherlock nodded in agreement.

“If he does find out, do you think he will care?” 

“That’s a more difficult question to answer. After all, it’s impossible to really know what is going on inside the head of a homicidal psychopath. He might care, someone that he could mould in his image or simply toy with. Delusions of grandeur are common, he could see a child of his as almost some kind of royalty, carry on his dynasty maybe? More likely though he wouldn’t care. After all, he has shown no interest in anything besides you, let alone a baby or fatherhood.” Mycroft theorised. Sherlock was silent for a moment, Mycroft’s word weighing heavily on his mind.

“Is she safe here? Safe from Moriarty if he tries to come for her?” Sherlock asked. Mycroft raised an eyebrow at Sherlock’s question, curious as to why Sherlock cared.

“Yes and no.” Mycroft said. “Yes, in the fact that if she wants to avoid Moriarty the best place for her is away from you, so here is a relatively safe place. But also no, if Moriarty does decide to come for her then there is nothing to stop him. She lives in a secluded cottage, with no defence capabilities, the nearest police station is fifteen miles away and from what mummy has told me, she lives with just her elderly grandmother for protection.”

“Can’t you do something, give her a security detail?” Sherlock said.

“For how long? The rest of her life? The entirety of the baby’s life? And where do you propose I station them, a tent next to Dr. Hooper’s house?” Mycroft asked sarcastically.

“Mother and father must have security detail, where do you station them?”

“This house is equipped with the best security system in the world, I know everything that happens within a two-mile radius of this house. They also have an underground bunker that can withstand a nuclear bomb with enough supplies to last 4 years. Their identities are also so well hidden that they cannot be traced to either of us, thus negating the need for a constant security detail.” Mycroft summarised. 

“Is there nothing you can do to protect her?” Sherlock asked.

“Unless she moved back to London where I already have an established network in place, no.” Mycroft said.

“I doubt she would agree to that.” Sherlock huffed. “She is convinced that the only way to stay safe is away from me.”

“Well she is not wrong, you do attract trouble.” Sherlock ignored Mycroft’s jab and turned to leave the room, however the exit was blocked by Violet Holmes.

“So here is where the two of you are hiding.” Violet scolded the two of them. “I didn’t invite you both here so you could hide away from me. Now Mycroft get back to the party while I have a word with your brother.” Mycroft quickly left the room, fearful of his mother’s rage. Violet’s eyes turned to her youngest. “Now what did you do to poor Molly? She left here very upset, even though she tried to hide it.”

“She left, when?” Sherlock asked.

“About ten minutes ago and don’t avoid my question.” Violet said.

“I’m sorry mother, I need to talk to Molly as a matter of urgency.” Sherlock said, giving his mother a polite kiss on the cheek and disappearing behind her. Violet was left slightly stunned and turned to head back to the party when she came face to face with Sherlock. “Where does she live?” Sherlock asked sheepishly.


	4. Chapter 4

“Mrs Hooper.” Sherlock said after the door of the cottage opened and Molly’s grandmother appeared in the entrance way. “My apologies for coming unannounced but I need to speak with Molly.”

“You are forgiven for arriving unannounced, after all, you were expected.” Molly’s grandmother smiled. Sherlock’s face must have showed confusion as he didn’t know he was coming until 10 minutes ago, so there was no way that Molly’s grandmother could have know he was coming, because Debbie elaborated. “A blind man could see that the two of you have unresolved issues, although Molly has not confided to me as to what they are. It wasn’t difficult to know that you’d be here at some point to resolve them.” Debbie took a step to the side to make room for Sherlock to enter and then pointed at the stairs in front of them. “Up the stairs, first door on your left.” Debbie then disappeared passed the stairs into what Sherlock assumed was the kitchen. 

Sherlock walked up the staircase and arrived on the landing. To the right was a home office, Sherlock recognised Molly’s organised chaos, similar to how she kept her office at Bart’s. To his left were two other doors. The one at the end was closed but the other was slightly ajar and Sherlock could hear a faint, almost ticking sound coming from beyond. Sherlock pushed open the door and entered what he quickly realised was a nursery. Whist Sherlock has known that Molly was pregnant, though in fairness he had only known for less than an hour, it didn’t really hit him until that moment that Molly was going to have a baby, Moriarty’s baby. A baby that would wake up to these walls, lie in this cot, fall asleep in its mother’s arms. The afternoon sun bathed the room in sunlight, illuminating the rooms soul inhabitant as she gently rocked in a rocking chair in front of the window, a pair of knitting needles in her hand and a steadily growing blanket emerging from her lap. 

“Two audiences in one day.” Molly muttered, not looking up from her knitting. “To what do I owe this honour?” 

“Your grandmother said I was expected.” Sherlock replied.

“Of course she did.” Molly whispered to herself before finishing her last stitch of the row she was doing and setting her knitting needles down on her lap and finally looking at Sherlock. “She thinks you’re the father.” Shock immediately appeared on Sherlock’s face that Molly couldn’t help but chuckle. “I told her you weren’t but she’s got this fantasy in her head that you’re here to sweep me off my feet or some other such nonsense.” Sherlock still hadn’t quite processed the idea that someone thought her had fathered Molly child that he almost didn’t catch what she said next. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t briefly toy with the idea of using you as a scape goat. People have been hounding me about the identity of the father ever since I told them I was pregnant. And then my grandmother asked if it was you and the idea came to me. Anyone who knew you or at least heard of you would immediately understand why I didn’t want you involved and my grandmother would only have to spend 10 minutes with you before she to would understand that you would make the most unsuitable father.” Sherlock wasn’t sure how to reply to that, after all what she said was the truth, even if it did hurt a bit. “Relax.” Molly said. “I decided against using you like that, even though you never gave me the same courtesy.”

“What do you mean?” Sherlock asked.

“Oh please Sherlock, you knew from that first moment you walked into my morgue that I fancied you and you took advantage of that. Dangling compliments and flirtatious smiles in front of my face for years!” Molly said in a harsh whisper, conscious of the fact that her grandmother was only down stairs. Taking a calming breath, Molly asked a question that she had been curious about for a while. “Tell me, what gave me away, that first moment, that I found you so aesthetically pleasing that you thought I’d risk my career just for a kind word from you?” Molly turned her gaze to Sherlock and saw that he would not meet it and that he was staying silent. Sherlock never missed an opportunity to show off. Molly was confused for a moment before realisation dawned on her. “You don’t remember our first meeting do you?” Molly received only silence as an answer. Molly shook her head in disappointment before pushing herself to her feet and walking past Sherlock through the door and started her slow descent down the stairs. “I think it’s time you leave Sherlock.”

“Leave?” Sherlock said following Molly down the stairs and then pushing against the front door as Molly made to open it. “I’ve just listened to you tear me to pieces, don’t you think I should be given the option to say something in my defence?” Molly glared up at him and tried again to open the front door but Sherlock would not budge. 

“Fine.” Molly huffed. “But not here, follow me.” Molly turned around and walked back the way they came except this time she walked passed the stairs heading towards the kitchen stopping to talk to her grandmother. 

“Sherlock and I are heading into the garden, please don’t follow us and eavesdrop.” Molly said.

“I would never!” Debbie replied, scandalised. 

“Sure.” Molly laughed before opening the back door and gesturing for Sherlock to follow. Molly walked along the edge of the house, around a bush and sat down on a bench that circled a tree trunk. “Say what you’ve got to say Sherlock, I don’t have all day.” Sherlock remained standing.

“I realise that I am not the easiest man to get along with but I don’t understand what I’ve done to deserve this animosity?” Sherlock asked.

“What you’ve done?” Molly asked in disbelief. “How about treating me with zero respect since you’ve known me? Or the fact that a psychopath pretended to like me just to mess with you? Maybe because you didn’t even let me know that said psychopath was a psychopath?!”

“Ok, I’ll admit I have not treated you with the respect you deserve as a friend.”

“A friend, yeah right.” 

“Molly please.” Sherlock said kneeling in front of her and taking both her hands in his. “I consider you a dear friend, you count as one of the few people I care about and I have always trusted you.” Sherlock held Molly’s gaze and saw the conflict within, whether to believe him or not. After all he was an adept liar.

“I knew you two could work it out.” Molly’s grandmother squealed, suddenly jumping out from behind the bush. Sherlock jumped up at the interruption and was momentarily confused as to what Debbie was referring to, when it occurred to him what position she had caught himself and Molly in. 

“No no no. This isn’t what it looks like.” Sherlock said quickly “I wasn’t, I didn’t...” Molly savoured this moment as the only time she had seen Sherlock flustered, before using her hands to push Sherlock out of the way who was blocking her view of her grandmother. 

“Calm down nana, Sherlock wasn’t proposing or confessing his love or begging forgiveness or any other ridiculous scenario that you’ve conjured it up in your overly romantic imagination.”

“But-” Molly’s grandmother began before Molly interrupted.

“And what did I say about eavesdropping?”

“I wasn’t! I came over to ask if anyone would like a drink? I just put the kettle on.”

“Tea please Nana, Sherlock?”

“Coffee.”

“Oh I’m sorry dear, we don’t have coffee in the house, Molly got cranky whenever she smelt it.”

“But you love coffee.” Sherlock said turning back to Molly.

“Can’t have it when you’re pregnant.” Molly grumbled.

“Oh. Just tea then thank you Mrs Hooper.”

“Oh please call me Debbie.” Molly’s grandmother smiled before disappearing back behind the bush. Silence descended between Molly and Sherlock, neither sure what more there was to say. 

“For once I know that this is tactless to say but I am curious. Why keep it? After what you know of Moriarty, what he is capable of. Why keep his child?” Molly stayed silent, starring at the grass beneath her feet. Sherlock wasn’t sure if she would answer but Sherlock badly wanted to know the answer so he patiently waited.

“I thought about it.” Molly whispered some time later, a hand subconsciously coming to rest on her stomach, Sherlock noticed the movement. “I agonized over it for nearly two weeks. I was so scared of going to work during that time, fearing that you’d march in, take one look at me and know straight away. Dr Molly Hooper, knocked up by a mass murder and one that fancied you more than he ever fancied me, if he ever did. And the one time you did come in, you were too preoccupied checking out a naked corpse, that you barely even spared me a glance.”

Sherlock knew who she meant, the fake Irene Adler. The buzz Sherlock got from that case was one of the best he had ever experienced, so it didn’t surprise Sherlock that he had not bothered to deduce Molly Hooper that day, or most days really. She had always been predictable, until now.

“But you eventually made a decision. Why did you decide to keep Moriarty’s baby?” Sherlock asked.

“Because its not his baby!” Molly hissed. The venom in Molly’s voice caused Sherlock to take a step back, however he was left confused by her answer.

“But you said-“ Sherlock began before Molly interrupted. 

“Yes Jim or Moriarty or what ever his name was fathered this child, but it is by no means his baby. It is mine, it is a part of me just as much as it is a part of Moriarty. I will raise this child to be a good person and it will know nothing of Moriarty and I think that is the biggest ‘fuck you’ I can ever send back to him. To let him know that what he did to me, what he is, will not define me or my baby.”

Sherlock remained silent, what she said didn’t make much sense to him, but for once he knew to keep his mouth shut.

“I think you should move back to London.” Sherlock eventually said.

“I think I should stay here.” Molly replied.

“But you are so isolated and vulnerable out here. How do you know you’ll be safe here?”

“I’ll be safe anywhere you aren’t. I wasn’t lying before, when Moriarty comes back, it’ll be for you. I have no doubt in my mind that Moriarty hasn’t spared me a single thought since he used me and tossed me away.” Sherlock winced at her callous retelling of how Moriarty used her. 

“The tea should be ready by now.” Molly said as she began to heave herself off the bench. Sherlock watched her struggle and a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like John told him he should help. Sherlock started to grab Molly’s arm to help pull her up but she quickly pushed him away. “I don’t need any help.” Molly hissed eventually getting to her feet and walking back the way they came towards the kitchen. 

“Oh I was just about to come and get you both, your teas are ready.” Debbie said upon seeing Sherlock and Molly enter the kitchen. The both of them sat down in front of their steaming mugs but remained silent. Debbie looked between the two of them but they determinedly avoided eye contact with her and each other. 

“So Sherlock,” Debbie began. “Would you like anything to eat? You weren’t at the party long.” Before Sherlock could open his mouth the reply Molly was already answering. 

“Sherlock doesn’t eat nana.”

“Doesn’t eat?!” Debbie exclaimed, shocked.

“Only when I’m on a case.” Sherlock said, “I’m a consulting detective, I help the police solve crimes.”

“That sounds like a very respectable job.” Debbie said, ignoring Molly’s snort at her comment. “So are you on a case now?”

“I don’t know yet.” Sherlock said, his eyes quickly darting to Molly.

“Well I’ll take that as a no, so that means you can eat. I was thinking about making Molly and I some nice omelettes, would you care for one?” Debbie asked, but again Molly interrupted before Sherlock could speak.

“Sherlock won’t be staying Nana, I’m sure he has more important things to do.” 

“Oh that’s a shame.”

“I don’t currently have anything that needs urgent attention, I have time for you.” Sherlock spoke up turning to Molly.

“Oh now you can time for me?” Molly said sarcastically. “Why now?! Because I’m carrying part of him? Am I to be a pawn again in your sick, twisted game? A way to gain some kind of leverage over him!” The kitchen plunged into awkward silence, with only Molly’s laboured breathing filling the void. 

“Molly…” Sherlock began but he had no idea what to say. 

“Nana, can we have a sec?” Molly asked, ignoring Sherlock. Debbie looked worryingly between the two of them before slowly nodding.

“I’ll just be in the living room.” Debbie said, slowly backing out the room. 

“Listen Sherlock,” Molly said once her grandmother had left the room. “Five months ago. That was when I needed you. When I needed someone to explain to me why my boyfriend disappeared. When I needed to confide in someone that I was pregnant. When I needed someone to understand the constant fear I felt for myself and my child. And you weren’t there.” Molly was silent for a moment while the weight of what she said sank in for both of them. “And now I don’t need you Sherlock. I got through the last five months on my own and I can get through the next four on my own and after that, the rest of my life on my own.” Molly took a steadying breath while Sherlock sat contemplating the decisions he’d made five months ago. Contrary to Molly’s beliefs, Sherlock had thought of her the day after the showdown at the swimming pool. He knew with ever fibre of his being that she hadn’t been involved and realised that Moriarty had used her, toyed with her all because of him. He had assumed that she would want nothing more to do with him. So he instead sent John to her, to explain who Jim really was. What a mistake he had made. “I think you should leave now Sherlock.” Molly said. Sherlock had no reply and so stood from his seat and walked towards the door.

“I meant what I said.” Sherlock said, freezing in the doorway facing away from her. “You do count and you are important to me.” Sherlock turned back to face Molly. “I realise that I have let you down but I want you to know that I will be here for you if you ever need me.” Molly smiled sadly through the tears that had fell from her eyes. 

“I don’t believe you.”

xXx

“I don’t believe you.” Those words echoed through Sherlock’s mind the entire journey back to his parent’s house. How had be let his and Molly’s friendship become so distant? When did he start taking her for granted? There were still plenty of cars parked outside his parents’ house, meaning that his mother’s party was still going on and Sherlock really wasn’t in the mood to fake pleasantries. Jumping out of his parents’ Land Rover that he had borrowed to get to Molly’s house. Sherlock intended to sneak inside and hide out the remainder of the party in his parent’s library. However, the moment Sherlock’s feet hit the ground the front door was swung open and out stormed an angry looking John Watson.

“Where the bloody hell have you been?” John said walking up to Sherlock. “I have been waiting here for you for over an hour!”

“John-“ Sherlock began but John cut him off.

“I assumed, rather stupidly it seems, that when you asked me to come ‘save’ you from your mother’s party with the old ‘there’s an emergency and Sherlock is needed back in London, it’s a matter of life and death’ spiel, that you would have the common sense to understand that you actually need to be at the event you need rescuing from in order for said rescue to be successful.”

“I’m-“

“And you did not mention that the event you needed rescuing from was your own mother’s birthday party. Honestly Sherlock, that’s cold even for you. Running out on your mother’s birthday. So then I feel like a dick because I was unknowingly helping you. But then I also look like an idiot running in to your mother’s party shouting about how you are urgently needed back in London only for Mycroft to tell me that you aren’t even here!” John finished his long rant with a huff and waited for Sherlock to explain where he had been, whilst Sherlock remained silent, thinking that he would just be interrupted again.

“Well?” John said. “Where were you?”

“I found Molly.” Sherlock replied.

“Well…wait…what? Molly? Bart’s Molly?” Sherlock nodded. “What was she doing here?”

“She has moved in with her grandmother who is apparently friends with my mother and lives just down the road.”

“I have to admit; I was not expecting that.” John chuckled slightly. “How is she? Happy to see you?” John asked, remembering the Molly who would stare adoringly at Sherlock when she thought no one was looking. Sherlock thought for a second before replying.

“Surprised.” 

“Surprised? Did Violet not tell her you were coming?”

“She apparently didn’t realise that my mother was in fact my mother.”

“Oh. What a strange turn of events. First Molly ups and leaves without so much as a goodbye and then turns up down the road from your mums. Did she say why she left?” John asked, after all he was slightly hurt that she had left without telling him, they were friends after all.

“She’s pregnant.”

“Christ! This day just gets better and better. Honestly, you couldn’t write this stuff.” John laughed, Sherlock however was not amused so John quickly sobered up. “Is it…um…you know?”

“Is it what John?” Sherlock asked, not understanding the movements John was making with his eyebrows.

“So much for subtlety. Is it yours?”

“No! Why does everyone keep thinking that?” Sherlock asked.

“Just a thought, calm down.” John said holding his hands up. “So is the father anyone we know? Is he why Molly moved away? Did he do something?” John asked, his anger flaring at the thought.

“Moriarty.” Sherlock replied.

“What?! You can’t be serious!” John said. “But he was just using her, he was after you!” 

“Either he felt like he had to in order to maintain his charade or…he was simply finding a way to amuse himself until he made his move on me.”

“Christ.” John said, running his hand through his hair. “Is she ok?”

“She seems to be coping well.”

“Has she had any contact from Moriarty? Is that why she ran away?”

“No. She believes that as long as she stays away from me then Moriarty will leave her be.”

“There is a certain logic there.” John said, Sherlock however looked unconvinced. 

“I don’t think she is safe here. She has no protection from Moriarty if he does come for her.”

“But why would he? He knows he can’t use her again, so I would assume that she has completely dropped off his radar. However, if you stay here, eventually word will reach Moriarty that you aren’t in London, then he’ll start looking for you and find out you are here and then start to wonder why and then he’ll discover Molly.”

“Don’t be ridiculous John, I wasn’t suggesting I stay here. I’d be bored stiff.”

“Good.” 

“Molly should move back to London. I can protect her there.”

“And how, exactly are you going to get her to do that, when from the sounds of it London is the last place she would want to be?”

“I’ll think of something.”


End file.
